Movie Review: Batman v Superman – Dawn of Justice

It’s Batman v Superman v the contents of your bladder in Zack Snyder’s too-long, 155-minute superhero slugfest.

Actually, make that ’25-minute slugfest’ and ‘130-minute exercise in ponderous caped-existentialism’, because the first two acts of Batman v Superman: Dawn of Justice are filled with so much inactivity and so many ghostly apparitions/ guilt-fuelled night terrors, you might mistake it for Hamlet.

(Kidding. No one is ever gonna mistake this thing for Hamlet.)

Ostensibly a sequel to Snyder’s much-maligned Man of Steel, Superman himself – Henry Cavill – has to take second billing here after Ben Affleck, who is making his debut as Bruce Wayne (aka Batman).

Set shortly after the Metropolis-levelling events of the previous instalment, BvS: DOJ sees suspicious industrialist Wayne (from sister city Gotham) and fidgety tech genius Lex Luthor (Jesse Eisenberg) individually plotting the death of Supes, that Kryptonian superbeing whose power remains unchecked. The latter has a plan that involves kidnapping, Kryptonite and Machiavellian manipulation. The former – in the guise of his suited vigilante Batman – has a plan that involves punching. Cue training montage.

Superman, meanwhile, wrestles with his self-imposed duty to protect Earthlings from themselves, despite a Government investigation into his intentions (led by Holly Hunter’s Senator Finch). That, plus a live-in relationship with reporter Lois Lane (Amy Adams) and the demands of his newspaper editor boss Perry White (Laurence Fishburne). In a rare moment of lucidity, the picture makes a point of noting the Daily Planet’s financial struggles, with White arguing down Lane’s request for ‘Economy Premium’ on a flight to D.C., because a newspaper with unlimited funds is far less believable than a world-saving alien.

Scripted by Chris Terrio (Affleck’s Argo) and David S. Goyer (Christopher Nolan’s still-warm Batman trilogy), the grim, high-falutin’ Dawn of Justice struggles under the weight of its political allegories, which, beyond painting Bruce Wayne as a distrustful pre-emptive interventionist, can’t settle on any actual position. (Except: Government regulation of superheroes is necessary and maybe also bad?)

The result is more of a superbummer than anything else. Snyder’s latest foray is so morose and devoid of comic-book thrills, you have to wonder who exactly this might please, besides Superman sadists. (Snyder loves to make him suffer.) This director can usually be relied upon to deliver gorgeously-composed frames amidst clunky plots and interminable dialogue. BvS has a few, but otherwise fails to deliver on that most shallow ability to simply look beautiful for us.

It’s not all bad. You can’t put appealing co-stars Adams, Fishburne, Hunter, Jeremy Irons (as Bruce’s butler, Alfred) and Diane Lane (as Superman’s human mum, Martha) in a room together and not accidentally make a watchable movie, unless you forgot to turn the camera on or something.

And certainly the feature, at its very least, makes good on its titular promise of featuring some Batman on Superman brawling. The other titular promise, a Dawn of Justice, is merely revealed to be an entirely meaningless sequel subtitle, to join the likes of Money Never Sleeps and Electric Boogaloo.

Hans Zimmer and Junkie XL’s score, sadly, rarely takes flight, except when introducing Gal Gadot’s Wonder Woman, who pops in to tease her own upcoming standalone spin-off (in cinemas 2017). In fact, if Batman v Superman achieves anything, it’s making mouths water for that film. Gadot doesn’t have much to do here, but she does much with what she’s given.

Affleck, who will have to carry another eight or nine Batman flicks if this one does well at the box office (and it’s unreasonable to think it won’t), is serviceable, despite his deceitful grin (deployed perfectly in Gone Girl) being holstered, replaced with a perpetual scowl. Dawn of Justice’s Bruce Wayne is much more in line with Frank Miller’s iconic graphic novel depiction than Christian Bale’s lithe, ninja-like take on the character. Now, Bruce is a blandly charming chin in a suit, and his Batman, a gruff goon. It works, enough.

(His clunky, weighty Batsuit probably won’t appeal to many kids this Halloween though; you’d have to worry about preteens developing hernias in the outfit. Wonder Woman’s battle costume has the opposite problem. Her seamstress apparently couldn’t find enough material to keep even her thighs protected.)

There remains a Superman-sized hole in this franchise, however. Henry Cavill’s empty performance might basically be classified as stop-motion; his clay-like body moving solely to the whims of every other character in sight. That’s the biggest problem with Batman v Superman: at no point do you want Superman, the plasticine protector, to beat Batman, the caddish antihero. Where’s the tension in that?

Actually, it’s not the biggest problem. That’d be Jesse Eisenberg’s tic-heavy performance as Lex Luthor, which is… what’s the opposite of ‘phoned in’? 'Screamed from the next movie over'? Credit where it’s due: choices were made. Yet, if Batman v Superman: Dawn of Justice teaches us anything, not all choices are correct.

2.5/5

In cinemas March 24, 2016. Rated M for intense sequences of violence and mature themes.